A Murder Misunderstanding Most Foul
by Rowana
Summary: What happens when you loss a loved one, and must make questionable decisions to make sure you don't lose another? What happens when those decisions come back and do the exact thing they were trying to prevent? Hr x R, G x D, post HBP
1. Sorry about the whole Harry thing

Disclaimer: Nothing from what follows, save for the plot, is my legal property. Everything below, again, save for the plot, is borrowed strictly for entertainment purposes only and no form of profit was given to me, except for the spiritual joy one receives from telling a story and spreading an art to the exceptionally bored, internet obsessed, and anyone who can appreciate a good 'ole fanfic. Enjoy.

Chapter One

_Black and white polished tile reflected the scene that was resting atop it. Two lifeless figures lay on the ground; the bodies completely covered with shabby, flowered sheets._

_Three life-filled figures slowly circled the two on the floor. One held an old fashioned looking camera, taking pictures of the dismal scene, almost seemingly at random. Another, with a small piece of parchment clipped to a board in one hand, and a quill in the other; writing notes hastily while the last man whispered to him. All three of them bore badges that shared the same "M.o.M." symbol._

_Ron and Hermione had just arrived at the scene. Ron's father heard about the chaos over at the Ministry and sent them an owl immediately, making sure they were okay. Unfortunately they found it wasn't their health they should be worried about._

_The Ministry officer whispering to its clipboard-baring equal stopped in his circle, and walked towards them solemnly._

Hermione opened her eyes suddenly as her cheap, muggle alarm clock buzzed. Its overpowering vibrations threatening to push itself off of her bedside table. _Snooze_, she pressed. The early morning sun poured through the window from across her bedroom and hit her face with fearful accuracy. She shielded herself with her soft blue comforter until her alarm clock buzzed at her again.

This time she couldn't press the snooze button fast enough. It jerked wildly under its buzzing vibrations until it took a suicidal leap off the table and onto the ground; the inevitable sign that she had to get up now.

Unsuspecting blindness seeped into her frustrated face. Every light in her room was still on, with books piled all over the place. Her recent obsession of reading during sleepless nights followed her every now and again. Only to greaten her frustration was the fact that a reoccurring nightmare always followed once she tired herself enough with reading.

Her eyes eventually gained its sight after cool water was poured on her face above the bathroom sink. As the refreshing droplets slowly fell from her forehead, the steady and reliable portions of her brain wheeled through her thoughts. Suddenly, it shot itself to a certain thought she wished her brain would never dwell. It cut through her mind, making her lose her strength. She grasped the sides of the ceramic sink to keep her balance, her elbows shaking and knees unlocking.

"Damn Harry . . . why did you have to-" She cut off, biting her lip. The images came flooding in heaps of unforgettable memories. Tears swelled and fell into the puddle of water in the blocked sink.

"Hermione . . ? Hermione?" Her mother knocked on the door.

Hermione released a large breath in surprise, bringing her back to the bathroom. Her arms gained control and supported her weight back on her feet. "Ye-Yeah?"

"You okay, honey? You'll be late for work."

"I'm fine mom. I'm on my way."

Perhaps it was just the fact that her parents had hardly seen her during her teen years, or that they feared her leaving the nest without proper financial comfort (at least in their eyes) which brings on the fact that, yes,-she does still live with her parents.

"Hermione, I was wondering if tonight you could help sort out some things in the garage. I think we still have a couple of boxes that belong to you in there." Her father stated across the kitchen table through the newspaper.

Her mother, Nicole, turned to her husband. "Oh, Frank, Hermione was actually planning on seeing Ron tonight. Ginny is coming home from her last year of Hogwarts, and they're holding a party for her."

He rolled his eyes. "If you're going to move out into an apartment," he now looked at his daughter, "you do realize that you need to pack, right? Your boyfriend could live one day without seeing you!"

Hermione laughed at his joking remark. "I'll get it done." She waved an evident sign of 'good bye' and walked out the door.

With a short pop, Hermione was standing on a cracked, littered sidewalk, in a large neighborhood nobody really went through, unless rich, or had an unstoppable urge to visit one of the biggest collections of shops in the city; the perfect place for an old, shabby shop containing a single manikin, baring rather embarrassing and outdated attire.

"Hello. Hermione Granger, clocking in." She said simply, walking through the glass as it simultaneously liquefied before her.

The lighted orbs of St. Mungo's were lit brightly as it accepted its employees and new arrivals of the morning.

"Good morning, Miss Granger." said the women at the front desk.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but stopped dead when something else caught her eye.

"What is that?" She turned to Doris, behind the desk.

"Uhh. . ." she looked confused. "What is what?"

"That!" She pointed across to the main hallway. "That isn't me is it?" Hermione had her eyes fixed on the large collection of portraits, one in particular that looked too familiar. She walked closer to the portrait in question only to find that she was unfortunately right. "What is a portrait of _me _doing here?" she turned back to Doris, now no longer behind the desk.

"Uhh. . ." she started. "Well. . ." At a loss of words she merely pointed at the engraved text below:

**Hermione Granger**

**Present Healer Specialized in Potion and Plant Poisoning **

**First Healer in History to be accepted into the St. Mungo's staff**

**without the required N.E.W.T exams**

"Dear god. . ." Hermione's embarrassing grin smiled back from the canvas. "This is just-"

"Well, do you like it? They put it up this morning." Doris turned, but Hermione had already rushed through the crowd into an elevator.

As an available elevator shot open in the main hallway, Hermione thankfully stepped in. The doors closed in front of her with a soft thud as a young coworker she paid no notice to stepped in and stood alongside her.

Hermione's thoughts played back and forth the image of her portrait. The picture of her was horrific; the text was unwillingly confessing her education status (or lack there of); and the whole thing was put up without one notification to her. . .She wondered why she even tried to be an average witch without having to be reminded of her seventh year at Hogwarts (or, again, lack of).

_It was for Harry. We wanted to help fight his battles, only to find there was nothing to be done, but allow him to fall on his own, like the mortal everybody knew he was, but publicly imagined he wasn't._

A calm womanly voice shot through the elevator, signaling its readiness, and Hermione routinely pressed the button that would lead to Level 3. In her trance of thought, she unknowingly pressed it slightly to its side, chipping her nail against the hard metal wall.

"Damn." She whispered, repairing it with her wand.

"Having some trouble, Miss?" Asked the stranger standing beside her, sounding as if he was desperately trying to conceal a laugh.

"And how is that any business of your-" She turned, annoyingly, but stopped short when she noticed the comment came from none other, then Neville Longbottom. "Oh my god, Neville! How are you?" She quickly hugged her old friend.

"What are you-" she stopped short again. She had a pretty good idea why Neville would be at St. Mungo's. Surprisingly he didn't seem embarrassed at the thought of his parents.

"Actually, I just started working today. Can you imagine? Me! Getting good enough scores to reach this high!" He gleamed in his pride.

"You're-You're working here? That's great! What's your department?"

"I'm working in the herbology greenhouse, studying plant poisons and remedies."

"Wow, Neville, that's great! We're in the same department!"

He swiftly looked down at the floor, as if an uncomfortable thought suddenly went through his mind.

"Um . . . Hermione?" She looked back up at him. "I'm-um . . . I'm sorry about the whole Harry thing."

It didn't surprise her that he would have known all about Harry's death, despite the fact the ministry worked hard to keep a majority of the details well hidden. Word always somehow found a way into Hogwarts during that time, probably then more then ever.

She lifted her hand and touched his arm gently. "Don't worry about it, Neville." She fought to get the thought of that night back off her mind. "Besides, it's not like you had anything to do with it."

He nodded, avoiding her eyes. "Right."

The elevator door opened wide. "Level Three." The cool voice sounded. The two of them got off on the same floor.

"Well, maybe I'll see you around Neville."

"Yeah, of course. Say hi to Ron for me then."

She assured him she would, and walked toward her office, leaving him to move across the hall to the greenhouse.

At the end of the day, Hermione returned her clipboard with the progress of her patients to the front information desk and excitedly moved into the front hall of the hospital and appareted instantly.

In half a second she had her high heels slowly sinking into the dense weeded lawn of the Burrow.


	2. Just a little brat

Disclaimer: See chap. 1

A/N: I know, I know . . . the character's are slightly (oh, who am I kidding) out of character. If I realize while I'm writing they are WAY too out of character, I try to add in a little 'side track' paragraph where I explain in the quickest way possible how I wanted that character to gain that difference through time. But, hey this is based on two years after HBP. People can change right? Fine, the plot just works better if they did change just a little. Hopefully J.K. Rowling will see it my way and make their personalities change just slightly enough to make my fanfic more believable (please? puppy dog face). Oh well, at least they aren't too out of character . . . right. . ?

Chapter 2

Wind rushed wildly through the deserted acres that surrounded the Burrow. Hermione stood there for a quick second, watching the calming dust devils that emitted in the distance . . .

Her mind was set still, helping release the stress of her long working day. The only thing that could make it absolutely complete was Ron.

The meditation ceased and she was able to pick up her feet and move closer to the numerously leveled house.

Its messy lawn, littered with weeds and numerous farm animals guarded the house with a loose, wooded fence.

A tall and lanky eighteen year old, with thick long red hair sat on the fence, throwing bread crumbs at random chickens that walked past his legs. With his back to the approaching Hermione, she made sure to walk lightly on her feet. Her shoes walked delicately as she snaked slowly towards him.

Once reaching him, Hermione took her hand and placed it gently through his hair. He jumped in surprise and turned to her. His face immediately gleamed at the sight of her. Dropping everything he jumped the fence and put his arms around her, firmly. She felt relieved to feel him close to her once again. She looked directly into his eyes and wrapped her arms above his shoulders. Their bodies meshed so perfectly together.

"Hey." He said simply.

She grinned. "Miss me?"

"Of course."

Inside the Burrow there were, ironically, only couples.

In the living room was Tonks and Lupin, speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Fleur and Bill. In the dining room was Fred with Angelina on his arm, George with a female employee from their successful joke shop, and Charlie with someone Hermione had never met before.

Charlie eyed them as they entered with a smile and pulled the new mystery woman by the hand towards them for a proper introduction.

"Hermione- Ron, this is Veronica. Veronica, this is my little brother, Ron, and his girlfriend Hermione."

The sight of Charlie's "Veronica" made Hermione want to turn polity and vomit all over the Grandfather clock. Veronica was wearing two tons of eye shadow around her eyes, making her look like a raccoon resting on a decapitated human body. Below her neck, however was a rather small tube top looking as if it were stretched farther then intended by the maker. A blue gem hung from her naval, decorating her naked stomach. She bore tight, midnight-blue, dragon skinned jeans and eight-inch boots. A half inch-wide thread stretched up, from her backside, and sat above her jeans.

"Charmed." She whispered sweetly, gracefully taking Hermione's hand, and turning to give Ron a peck on each cheek.

"Isn't she something?" Charlie asked proudly. "We met when she moved from Bulgaria to Romania."

After Charlie and Veronica slipped away, Ron's cheeks were extremely red, his eyes avoiding Hermione's glare at his stained cheeks.

"It's just the way she greets everyone. It means nothing. It must be something that's common in Bulgaria." He told the tile.

Strange, Hermione never noticed this in the other Bulgarian women she had met in her forth year. But she took the thought quickly out of her mind, she trusted Ron.

At the smell of food, Mrs. Weasley ran back towards her kitchen, with Mr. Weasley following closely behind. Parts of their conversation came clear as they raced past Hermione.

"But Arthur, have you seen her? She looks like he just picked her up off the street!" Their subject was evident. Ron and Hermione fought off bits of laughter after exiting earshot.

Darkness hastily swept the open dusty skies in the burrow's back lawn. Mr. Weasley stumbled across, with floating mismatched tables being led by his wand towards its center. Meanwhile, all the Weasley siblings (save for Ginny, of course) and Hermione were diligently helping set up silverware, some under the order of Mrs. Weasley.

Lupin came out, with many chairs following him, out into the lawn.

"Is that the correct number of chairs, Lupin? Of everyone that's coming?" Mrs. Weasley looked at him, distressed.

"Yes, of course. Counted them myself."

Mrs. Weasley turned to the tables at the heart of the yard. Her face bore a disapproving frown. "Oh dear, I'm afraid there isn't going to be enough room. Lupin would you mind please going up stairs and fetch one more table, just so we wont be so cramped. Ronald will go with you."

Ron jerked up from the pile of shining silverware and looked at his mother. "I'll do what?"

Piled food sat on the counter. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione waited diligently in the kitchen.

Waited . . .

and waited . . .

and waited . . .

and waited . . .

To fight the awkward silence, Hermione tried to start the conversation. "It should be nice to have Ginny back home now."

Mrs. Weasley's dream-like face turned to instant concern. "Yes . . . only for awhile I suppose."

Interest aroused. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't Ron tell you why we were having this party?" She looked up surprised. "Oh, well I suppose not, he probably wouldn't want to talk about things like that."

"Things like what? Ron only told me we were having a party for Ginny. I just assumed it was for her finishing up her last year at Hogwarts."

"Well that, and . . ." she smiled, but still showed slight concern. "Ginny planned the party to introduce her new boyfriend."

"Oh." Hermione wasn't really surprised she could have a boyfriend; she was just surprised her life didn't falter after Harry's death as much as everyone expected. This started Hermione into thinking Ginny had set a new level of maturity since their last meeting.

"Yes. Very serious, I hear." Hermione knew better then to think that Mrs. Weasley was happy with this news. Ginny had been her youngest child and only daughter, she wasn't about to give her up to a mystery boy that easy. She forced a smile towards Hermione until she couldn't think of anything else to add on the subject. "Lupin and Ron do seem to be taking quite awhile with that table, aren't they?"

_Where were those boys? She sent them up nearly twenty minutes ago. It can't be too hard to find._

The food threatened to become cold as it sat on the tacky kitchen counter, being untouched.

Another ten minutes passed before Hermione spoke up. "I'll find them, Mrs. Weasley. Just up the stairs, right."

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth, but she was droned out by Hermione's shoes hitting the hardwood staircase. _How hard could it be?_ _They just went to the attic, right? So, it should be at the top of the stairs. It's common sense._

Apparently, common sense doesn't admit itself in the Burrow. Instead, at the top of the stairs was a single hallway, filled with five doors. _Which was the attic?_ Hermione wondered. _Ok, behind door number one is . . ._

The first was a large room, containing nothing but a sofa and a larger then usual window. The second, was filled with long grass that slowly swayed from an invisible breeze, some spare gnomes seemed to have created a huge network of neighborhoods through the brush. Into the third, was a large, impressive library, every wall was covered completely in bookshelves except for one corner of the room that seemed to be occupied by two human bodies . . . in an intimate embrace.

Embarrassed at her intrusion, Hermione was quick to turn and shut the door to allow them privacy . . . until she recognized the two . . . the messy red hair and blue thread was unmistakable . . . _Ron and Veronica!_

Their bodies seemed irremovable, clamped tightly together by the twos' arms. Heat radiated from them as Veronica placed her leg around him, playfully rubbing his; her hand up his shirt, feeling the rock solid abs that had formed over many hours of Keeper practice. A devilish grin was laughing menacingly at the corners of Ron's mouth, being covered passionately with hers.

Hermione gaped at the two. Her knees shook. _What the hell is going on?_ Her throat double clutched on her and no words could reach her lips. She felt suffocated. Walls in her mind were slowly closing in on her; her breath weakening with every passing moment. She made the only sound she could; a deep groan, coming from the back of her neck, she was desperately trying to form into words.

Ron and Veronica still did not turn.

_How could this be happening? What did I do to deserve this?_ Her head spun. She grew faint and lost control of her body weight, collapsing hard on the floor.

The tight grip around her throat clenched further.

_Oh God, what is happening? _

Finally, Veronica broke the grasp she had on Ron's lips and turned towards Hermione. "Should we help her, Ronald? She looks as if she's going to be sick."

A look of revenge flashed in his face, as he saw Hermione lying helplessly on the floor. "No . . . Besides, who cares about her, anyway? Just a little brat."

With an airhead-like shrug, Veronica turned back around and pressed herself onto Ron.

Hermione tried to get up, but her arms wouldn't support her.

_Please Ron, what is wrong with you. . ? Or is it me?_

_What have I done Ron? Please tell me! Don't do this._

She closed her eyes tight to keep her gaze off of Ron and Veronica, now not paying any form of attention to her.

_Please, Ron . . . I love you._


	3. To find the remaining broken pieces

Disclaimer: See chap. 1

Chapter Three

Ghostly beings clenched their hands across Hermione's neck. A soft groan emitted through her voice against the tramping walls of her throat.

"_Ron . . ."_

A thick fog clouded her eyes as she slowly suffocated on the hardwood floor. With her elbows outstretched, she retracted herself, trying to press herself up. Her feeble attempts were useless; her arms were still shaking too dramatically to hold herself.

_What the hell is wrong with me? Get up! Get up! _An invisible force pressed her harder to the ground.

The door shot open hard, allowing a cool breeze to hit her body, now covered in sweat. Two sets of feet ran across the room. One of them stopped short in front of Hermione, and the other jumped to the embracing pair in the corner.

"Hermione? Hermione, are you okay?" Ron's voice whispered in her ear.

"Wu-What?" She attempted painfully to move on her side.

"Its okay, Baby. We're going to take you down stairs."

Hermione turned her loosening neck slowly. Ron looked down at her and rubbed her arm gently.

"What? What's going on?"

Lupin's face appeared next to Ron. "Hermione? Are you okay? Don't worry it's just a boggart. I got rid of it."

"Oh my god." She breathed in and out. _Just a boggart. Just a boggart._

She felt stupid. _All this and it was only a boggart. _ She forced her eyes shut to stop tears of ultimate relief.

"Can you get up?" Lupin asked.

She attempted again to gain her strength. "I-I don't know." She couldn't. She still felt shaken.

"It's okay. I got you." Ron lifted her up swiftly in his arms and stood up.

Back down stairs, everyone grouped up in a large crowd around the front steps.

Ron carried Hermione down the stairs, Lupin walked slowly behind, with a long white table.

"Oh my, Hermione! Are you alright?" cried Mrs. Weasley.

"She's fine, Mom." Ron reassured her.

"Ron and I came across the table in the attic, unfortunately many of the pieces were stored around everywhere, and well, it just took us awhile to find the remaining broken pieces." Lupin explained. "Hermione must have come up looking for us and ran into that boggart upstairs. She may have twisted her ankle."

Mrs. Weasley's face flushed. "Oh my, Hermione. I'm so sorry. I know how you feel. Damn those boggarts."

"Don't worry; I'll be sure to take care of it after dinner." said Lupin.

"Oh, right." Mrs. Weasley suddenly remembered the food. "Right, well, lets get that table outside. Ron, you can put Hermione down on the coach, we'll give her time to rest for a bit."

Ron nodded and carried her to the living room.

Ron carried Hermione through the crowd and placed her gently on the plush coach in the deserted living room. He leaned down next to her and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"You sure you're okay?" his nervousness showed through his voice. No matter how much he tried to act calm and collected; Hermione knew him better then that.

Hermione nodded her head slowly. "I think I'll be okay. I ju-just can't stop shaking." She grinned slightly to show she wasn't in too much pain.

At that point Ron moved to the other side of the coach and examined her ankles.

"Well, your ankles are fine. You didn't sprain it like Lupin thought."

Hermione knew already she never sprained her ankle. The pain that shot through her didn't feel physical enough to be a body injury. It felt more like something chilly went through her body, suffocating her from the inside out.

"Do you think we should take you to a healer or anything?" He placed his hand on her arm, and lifted her upper body slightly, sitting next to her and placing her in his lap.

The warm feeling from him pressed through Hermione's skin. It comforted her. She could start settling her breathing, as long as she knew Ron was here and not in the arms of anyone else.

"Hermione?"

She looked up. "I love you."

He smiled back and kissed her tenderly. "I love you too . . . baby."

Hermione cringed slightly. Pet names always sounded weird to Hermione, especially coming out of Ron's mouth. It seemed out of touch with the Ron she always knew. Maybe he forced himself to say it, to show her he did love her. _Oh well, _she found it cute none the less.

The moon was clearly visibly in the dark, star-filled sky before they heard any news on Ginny's progress home. Ginny had made it clear to her mother acouple of weeks ago that she wished to meet the parents of her boyfriend first before her parents met him, and that they didn't need to bother to pick her up at the train-station. She had it covered. This still didn't, however, comfort Mrs. Weasley any further.

Everyone gathered in the dark, dusky gardens when an owl swooped through towards Mr. Weasley.

"News on Ginny." He said, reading diligently.

Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron looked up. "What does it say?" They all asked. They were all naturally overprotective of their little sister.

"Says she's on her way, she'll be here any minute." Fred jerked the parchment out of his father's hand as he finished reading it.

The hand Ron was holding Hermione's hand in clenched tightly into a fist. Hermione's fingers went in danger of turning purple.

"Ron . . . Ron, it's going to be okay." She reassured. Ron didn't listen; he still worried who Ginny would bring home with her. "You're going to worry too much over it," she said, "and then it's going to turn out to be nobody to worry about like Colin, or someone like that."

"If it is Colin . . . I'll still beat his head in."

A pop sounded outside, on the other side of the house, moments later.

Anxiety sprung on Mrs. Weasley's face. She quickly stood up and raced across the lawn to be sure everything was set up properly.

Everyone else turned to the far corner of the lawn where a charming little stone walk went through a small garden and provided a route from the front of the house to the back.

Ginny's conspicuous red hair appeared around the wall, her plaid cloak covered her skinny figure. Every person in the yard stood awestruck at her.

Her hand stuck out from the flowing cloak, almost floating away from her. This sight however wasn't what amazed the inhabitants around her. They were much more interested in what (perhaps 'who' being a better word) was on the other end of her arm.

Hermione, out of instinct, restrained Ron by his arm.

Ginny revealed her new boyfriend with an innocent smile. Draco Malfoy looked around the yard, and tightened his grip on her hand.


End file.
